


Pieces of the dead

by orphan_account



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-28 00:35:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6306742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After they discover Skyhold, Josephine and Leliana manage to share a quiet moment. Somehow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pieces of the dead

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anaeolist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anaeolist/gifts).



The mornings are cold—everything is cold, in this fortress they've found—and, as there is no one to spare, Josephine lights her own fires in her office. Leliana knows this, as she knows many things, through spies. It is an effort not to descend from her rookery and light the flames herself. 

Haven is another failure of hers. She could not have predicted the disaster the Conclave that lost Justinia her life, but she _might_ have known Corypheus was coming to their doorstep, if only she'd set more guards and sent out more scouts. Gotten someone inside the Venatori, to alert her to the possible dangers they posed,

But Josephine made it through alive, with or without Leliana's assistance. There is a shameful part of Leliana that thinks—any loss was worth it, if only for _her_ , the only good woman in Val Royeaux, the soul of the Inquisition. Shameful. Every member of the Inquisition, from the people who signed on to scrub their chamber pots, to Cullen's most valued captains, are absolutely vital. But it is this part of her that sees her headed down to Josephine's office, early enough to find her on her knees, poking at the kindling in her fireplace. 

"Shit," Josephine is murmuring, at her tiny fire. There is a bit of the facade Leliana has long seen through--Josephine comes from a family of lowborn sailors, on her mother's side, and is perfectly capable of swearing like one. Leliana has long been privileged to hear her in her little tempers, cursing like her ancestors before her. (In her large tempers, she is perfectly pleasant, and perfectly terrifying.) "Shit, shit, shit. Light, damn you, I haven't all day. Do you know many letters I need to write? Do you know, little flame, how little food we have left, to feed an entire army?" 

"Such language," Leliana says, from the door, and Josephine starts with her entire body. She looks up, eyes wide, as though Leliana needed to feel more guilty than she already does. But she muscles through it, because she must. "Would you like a bit of help?" 

"If you would," Josephine replies, gesturing at the pile of kindling and discarded matches at her knees. 

Leliana is privileged to sit next to her, cross-legged. She could light this fire in her sleep. People practically throw dry, high-quality wood at Josephine, because Josephine is a northerner, and unaccustomed to such cold, and well-beloved, besides. 

Josephine shivers, just once, and takes both of Leliana's hands in her own. "You're colder than I am," she says, feeling at each individual joint in each of Leliana's fingers. "Maker. Is it because you're so tall?" 

This is a flirtation.

Leliana has ignored innumerable flirtations from Josephine over the years, as she has flirted with Josephine and been ignored. Because they are _friends_ , and because a flirtation means nothing in the Game. 

This is not the Game. This is a mountaintop, Maker-knows-where—truly, they do not know where they are on the map yet with relation to Haven, though Leliana's scouts are working tirelessly at it, regardless of their lost comrades—to which they walked over pieces of the dead, after the Herald brought Haven down on herself. Josephine massages warmth into Leliana's hands, one finger at a time. She slumps against Leliana's mailed tabard, her face pressed into the cold metal links, and this is closer than Leliana has ever allowed herself to be to her. She must be absolutely terrified, and clinging to the nearest, strongest person for comfort, never mind their long acquaintance. If were Cullen, or Cassandra, or Bull here—or Madame de Fer, who has always been fond of the little Antivan ambassador—surely, she would be doing the same thing.

Even as Leliana thinks it, she knows she's lying to herself. 

"Josie," Leliana says, cautiously. 

Josephine clicks her tongue, in the manner of some loudly-dressed, disapproving Antivan dowager. Eventually, if they survive, if they restore this fortress, they _will_ have to contend with dowagers. "We're helping one another," Josephine says, gently, holding Leliana's hands in-between her smaller ones. Trapping her. "For one hour, let us pretend that we're not on the brink of collapse, hmm? That if only I had managed to get more troops from our noble allies, we would still be safe at Haven. That if the Commander's army had been better prepared, we would not have had to flee through the mountains. That if you had been more vigilant, none of this would have happened. Forget all of it. Stay here, with me. I am only warming you." 

It is what Leliana needs to hear. It is what Josephine needs to say, in order to make it a reality. Leliana could go back to the tower she's claimed, then, to what few ravens her people managed to save from the avalanche, to Dorian and the scholars arguing as they catalogue the ancient, dusty, stinking tomes beneath her personal floor. But Josephine smells clean as only someone who's made a hot bath materialize out of thin air can, and she has wound herself around Leliana, besides. 

"For an hour," Leliana says, shutting her eyes. She feels Josephine's kiss on the side of her neck, and does not acknowledge it. She feels Josephine's touch to her cheek, and wraps her own arms around Josephine, to hold her down, keep her safe. If she can keep this one bright light burning, she will be fine. If she can keep this one woman safe, all will be well.


End file.
